


And If I Slipped Into Darkness

by quicksilverdeancas (quicksilvermalec)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Dean Winchester, Brainwashing, Dean Winchester's Tentacle Kink, Drugged Dean Winchester, Drugged Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Forced Pregnancy, Graphic Rape, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Minor Character Death, Mpreg, Offscreen character death, Oral Sex, Other, Parent/Child Incest, Pregnancy, Pregnant Dean Winchester, Pregnant Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Sexual Violence, Sounding, Tentacle Monsters, Tentacle Rape, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, Unplanned Pregnancy, ask for more tags, enjoy owo, graphic birth, it's just kinda... gross and awful, seriously this is really not a nice fic, this is to fulfill a very specific and niche kink of mine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:34:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27382018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quicksilvermalec/pseuds/quicksilverdeancas
Summary: He lays there, shirt and jacket and boxers and fuck-all else, waiting for the monster’s verdict. It seems to be surveying him, even though he can’t tell where from. It has no eyes that he can determine; in fact, it appears exactly like any other tree. Apart from the obvious being made out of a malleable gelatinous JELL-O, that is.orIn which everyone is an idiot, and the author should probably go to jail.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester/Original Character(s), Dean Winchester/Original Child Character(s), Dean Winchester/Other(s), Dean Winchester/Tentacle Babies, Dean Winchester/Tentacle Monster, Dean Winchester/Tentacles
Comments: 4
Kudos: 115





	And If I Slipped Into Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry I know the ending is kinda rushed but we just wanted to get this posted 🙈🙈
> 
>  **~~SPOILERS~~**  
>  Warnings:  
> MCD for Sam killing the tentacle monster and the tentacle babies.  
> GDV for Sam killing the tentacle monster and the tentacle babies and Dean being forced into sexual acts by tentacle monster.   
> Rape warning is pretty self-explanatory.
> 
> Enjoy!!

“You would think,” Dean hisses as he slashes a branch off a gray-brown tree and watches it fall to the ground with a mildly satisfying crunch, “that when we hunted in disgusting, slimy, muddy swamps, _someone_ would remember to bring appropriate gear.”

Dean is in a famously foul mood. Sam is just tired of listening to him whine.

They’ve been traveling on foot for about four hours, winding their way through the barely illuminated fog of this particular ecosystem. The mud Dean complained about for the first half hour has long since passed his mind; the first layer dried in fifteen minutes and a second layer joined, and now their shoes are caked in the stuff. Dean obviously needed more entertainment, so he’s moved on. He complained about the humid, filmy, probably polluted air. He complained about the fact that they couldn’t see where they were going. He complained about being hungry cause they only ate lunch forty-five minutes before they left. And now he’s complaining – passive-aggressively, as he is known to do – about Sam not bringing wipes.

He can go fuck himself with a stick, in Sam’s most humble opinion.

(Oh, how Sam will regret that thought.)

~~

“Are you sure that you know where we’re going?” Sam asks about forty minutes later. Dean makes a face that is surely the human equivalent of a tiger hissing at you before it tears you to shreds.

“You shut your face, Sammy. No one asked you.”

“Okay, well what if I go that way,” Sam begins, pointing off to the left, “and you keep going this way, and whoever finds our slime monster first calls the other and we meet up?”

Dean scoffs. “Fine. Suit yourself, get out of here.”

Sam chuckles dryly and turns gratefully to walk in a different direction.

~~

Look, Dean’s not so much pissed at Sam, he just doesn’t like dirt, or germs, or mud, or slime, or most icky things. For all of Sam’s OCD, Dean is the clean freak of the two of them. So no, trudging through a gross marsh full of water that looks like vomit isn’t exactly his idea of a good time.

He makes it maybe another half a mile past where he and Sam split up before he swings his blade at a branch and instead of slicing, it slides harmlessly through like jelly. He pauses. Stares at his knife. Looks back at the branch. He swings again and once more, it goes straight through leaving not so much as a crack. In fact, it looks as though the branch is _healing itself_ as fast as Dean can hurt it.

He admires it in fascination, one hand reaching out to touch it, but before he does, he has a sickening realization that makes his stomach drop; the branch is _moving_. Not toward him – straight, in the direction it was already pointing. It’s moving so quickly it looks stationary.

Something’s wrong here.

He barely registers that thought before something slimy but not as cold as it should be wraps around his wrist and he gasps from the shock of it, dropping his knife. He looks down at it; it’s translucent gray, identical to the not-a-branch in front of his face. Another one wraps around his other wrist and he’s hoisted up into the air.

He struggles, suddenly and sharply afraid. He needs to get away, he absolutely cannot stay here. He keeps soaring higher and higher until suddenly he’s being set down on something hard and solid. He twists furiously, but it’s no use. He’s alone here.

The two tentacles that are wrapped around his wrists hold him down as two more – much smaller – start to untie his shoes. _How the fuck…?_ He doesn’t know. But then his shoes are being pulled off his feet along with his socks. His jeans are delicately unbuttoned and unzipped, and then unceremoniously discarded alongside them. He knows where this is going. He’s watched this hentai shit. But this being his kink in porn doesn’t mean he ever wanted to experience it in real life.

He lays there, shirt and jacket and boxers and fuck-all else, waiting for the monster’s verdict. It seems to be surveying him, even though he can’t tell where from. It has no eyes that he can determine; in fact, it appears exactly like any other tree. Apart from the obvious being made out of a malleable gelatinous JELL-O, that is.

The tentacles on his arms abruptly disappear and for a moment he thinks he’s being set free. He thanks any and every god that’s ever existed as he tries to stand, only to be pushed back down by a much larger tentacle. His jacket and shirt are efficiently removed, leaving him bare and exposed and then he’s locked down at the wrists and ankles once again.

One thin tendril slides into the leg of his boxers and winds its way up his chest. It brushes feather-light across his neck, then presses against his lips. He shakes his head, adamantly pursing them tightly closed. The creature seems disappointed.

The tendril rapidly retracts, curling up and catching on the waistband of Dean’s underwear. It yanks them down as it goes and Dean is faced with the horrifying truth that _he is rock-hard from this treatment._ He finds himself struggling against the restraints in an attempt to cover up. It doesn’t work.

One tentacle, about two fingers wide, slips up the side of Dean’s leg, from his ankle to his pelvis, then snakes around the base of his cock. Another one, this one with two openings on the end, follows, and the holes wrap around his balls.

Dean’s writhing now from the forbidden and frankly disgusting pleasure of this as another tentacle taps at his lips again. He squeezes his eyes shut, thinking that maybe if he pretends it isn’t real it will become unreal, he’ll wake back up in the bunker—

The tentacle around his cock strokes languidly, base to head, and he _moans_. His mouth opens wide, and the tentacle that’s been eagerly awaiting its opportunity thrusts itself deep into his throat.

It doesn’t cut off his air, is the first thing he notices. In fact, he has no issues breathing with this thing inside him at all. The next thing he notices is an odd feeling, like some sort of liquid being slow-dripped down his throat. It’s salty and sweet, and gives him a faint sense of home. The third thing he notices is that once he’s tasted the nectar, all the fight drains from his body at once. His limbs go lax in this thing’s grip as it strokes his hard cock again.

Pleasure rushes through his body as the tentacles stroke his cock and suck on his balls. Yet another tentacle trails up his chest. He can see that this one has little suction cups on it. One of them settles against each of his nipples and they pull, suck, even nip occasionally. Everything that happens just serves to make Dean harder. He moans loudly around the tentacle in his mouth, which responds by thrusting deep inside and then retracting. The pleasure makes his brain go blank and fuzzy and he writhes mindless pleasure against the contact from all sides.

So close, he thinks, god, so fucking close. Just a few more strokes and he’ll cum, and this will all be over.

And just like that, as if he ordained it just by having the thoughts, all the movement stops.

He just lays there for a few moments, confused, twisting his head to one side, then the other, trying to determine what’s going on. Nothing seems to change, until he realizes his legs are being spread farther apart. And up. His knees bend and his ankles are pushed back so that his heels rest against his thighs.

He’s open, empty, and exposed for this monster, and he knows it’s about to do whatever it wants to him.

Exactly as expected, a thin tentacle slides down from above him and starts to slide through the crack of his ass. Something cool and slick secretes from the end of it, spreading around on his skin. It circles his puckered opening before slipping inside him.

“Fuck…” Dean mumbles, but whatever paralytic it gave him prevents him from fighting in any way beyond that.

The tentacle doesn’t feel too thick. It doesn’t feel as though it’s stretching him open or hurting him at all. It just slides inside of him and starts to pump, in and out, still expelling that odd, cool fluid, still slicking its way. It’s thick and ridged, catching against his prostate every once in a while as it thrusts. Dean loses track of time as they sit there, the monster patiently filling him again and again, but he idly wonders why he feels _tighter_ instead of looser as they go along.

It’s not until the thing pauses for a moment that he realizes it’s _growing_ inside of him. It just takes a short breather, inflates itself more, and goes back to persistently fucking his ass.

“Oh my god,” Dean whimpers, his voice a barely-audible breathy whine. The monster doesn’t seem to notice, just content to slide in and out of him until he can’t breathe from the stretch.

It’s slow, so fucking agonizingly slow, just filling him up and then pulling back away, a steady rhythm that feels almost comforting, soothing, but it shouldn’t be, it should be wrong, it’s wrong… is it wrong? Why is it wrong? What happened… how did Dean even get here? It doesn’t matter cause that feels _so good_.

The tentacle curls inside of him and nails that spot and he cums abruptly, spraying all over his own belly. It pulls out and then starts to fuck into him with a vigor, finding that spot again and again as the others go back to work on his cock, balls, and nipples.

He shivers from the overstimulation, arching back into it, feeling it in every part of his body. It seems like the tentacle inside of him just keeps going deeper, and at some point he groggily manages the energy to lift his head. He looks down, just to see a large lump in his lower belly. It’s that deep inside of him… he falls back again, exhausted.

It seems to keep sliding deeper into his ass and it doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t pull, it just feels exhilarating. A thin rod slides into the slit of bound-hard cock and he gasps. He’s never gone there before, never experimented like that, and it’s weird and amazing. He doesn’t bother fighting when his hips jump up into all the unexpected stimulation, slick gelatin tendrils stroking him and sucking on his balls and toying with his nipples and fucking his throat.

He gags around the one in his throat and it pulls back so he closes his lips around it, running his tongue across the eerily smooth surface with all the brainpower he can muster, still groaning as the sound slides deeper into him in tandem with the thicker tentacle in his ass. He grazes his teeth over the surface, then relaxes the muscles in his throat and invites the monster to keep throat-fucking him.

It does, allowing the tentacle to continue sleeping deeper and deeper inside of Dean’s throat. It makes sure never to cut off his air and he swallows around it, taking it deep down and loving it. He wants to pleasure the creature, to make it proud, to make it feel as good as it’s making him feel. He wants it to love him just as he is certain he loves it.

He moans again as the tentacle in his ass retracts, only to shove forward and deeper yet again. He chokes on his own cries as it fills him to the brim, taking him hard and fast and stroking him leisurely, somehow so in contrast with itself. Everything is so big, so tight and hot and overwhelming and amazing that Dean’s vision goes white and he’s cumming again, screaming incomprehensible sounds as he squirms in the unforgiving grip of this monster, elongating his orgasm until it’s nearly painful, and the last thing he registers is something thick, like globs of goop, being released inside of him before he passes out.

~~

When he wakes up he’s in a different position. His neck and head are resting on one (or multiple) tentacles, pillowed so he doesn’t hurt himself while his hips and legs are elevated above his chest. His knees are still bent, pulled up to his shoulders now, and his cock is rock-hard against his stomach. His chest is swollen. His chest is… swollen?

He feels soothing, gentle touches on his shoulder and twists his head to see one tentacle caressing him like a lover. He relaxes into the feeling. His brain is foggy. He had a mission at some point, something he was supposed to do… but even as he has the thought, it slips away from him. He closes his eyes and turns his head into the softness of the limbs holding him in place, making sure he knows he’s cared for.

Abruptly, his stomach cramps. His eyes fly open and he looks down at it again. Upon closer inspection he realizes that it’s even more swollen than his chest. It looks like he stuffed a beach ball into his shirt. His stomach cramps again.

He cries out in pain, and a tentacle slips between his lips. He bites down on it gently and receives no punishment, so he bites down hard to keep from screaming as his muscles contract, again and again, more quickly each time. With every round they give him less time to relax afterward, expecting his body to be able to keep up as the contractions grow closer together.

…Oh.

_Contractions._

He’s having babies.

Somehow, he feels as though that realization should be bad, but it just makes him feel better and more secure. Now that he knows what’s happening, he can just relax and breathe through it.

The first one is the hardest. It pulls and stretches at him and makes him scream around the tentacle in his mouth, but then it’s out of him. It crawls up his leg and rests on his chest and he maneuvers his legs a little so that he can hold it as he starts to push the next one.

The whole process takes about two hours. Human birth is much harder, he’s heard. He guesses he got off easy. He winds up with five babies on his chest, huddling them all close to himself, just little shapeless blobs of goo with tiny yellow dots for eyes. He kisses each of them just above their little eyes and closes his eyes, exhausted. He needs to sleep for a couple of weeks.

But then a tentacle taps on his lips and he forces himself to open them again, blearily. It taps again and he obediently drops his jaw. The tentacle slides into his mouth and releases another flood of the sweet, honey-like substance that makes his nerves buzz happily. He swallows it down and licks the tip of the tentacle teasingly before it pulls away from him. The creature seems fondly amused as it lifts the blob babies off of him one by one and settles them in various spots.

The first rests next to his head. It looks at him curiously, and he twists his head to look back, smiling. Then it leans forward and seems to put its entire head into Dean’s mouth. Well, he guesses it doesn’t really have a head considering it’s shapeless. But the part of its body that contains its eyes. He doesn’t question it – maybe that’s the honey? – and just sucks gently on it.

Two more are placed on his ribcage, and they immediately each surround his nipples and start to suck. His chest is swollen for them, he realizes belatedly. He’s their mom, he’s making milk – or whatever monster equivalent – for them to grow.

The fourth settles itself on his pelvis and starts to suck on the head of his cock, which secretes some sort of pink liquid it’s never made before that the little monster swallows down. Dean sighs happily and rocks his hips gently into it.

His last baby does something he doesn’t expect – it settles between his legs, and then slips fully into his ass, and _deep_. He feels it press against his prostate and then not stop, just sitting there rubbing or doing something to that spot, making him shake and quiver with the pleasure.

His babies love him so much, he thinks. They’re making their mommy feel so good, gonna grow up big and strong and be perfect little babies and make their mommy cum just for them cause Dean belongs to them now.

And they do make him cum; oh, how they do. That pink stuff is coming out of his nipples and his cock and they drink it up. And they shuffle around, switching places, darting between his mouth and his ass and his breasts and his cock. With them, he doesn’t cum _hard_ , like hitting a swimming pool all at once from the high dive, with the full force slamming into you and making it hard to breathe. They make him cum gently, a little at a time, like waves of pleasure that build and build until they peak and wash over the shore, making Dean shiver from the pleasant tingliness of it, but never shudder and scream. His babies don’t want him to scream.

Dean thinks he likes it this way.

He keeps drifting off knowing that his babies and his lover will take good care of him. He knows he’ll wake up safe in his slime monster’s arms, with his little children sucking away at his body. He knows he’ll be protected, cared for, and loved.

He wakes up confused. Scared, cold, and alone in the dark.

~~

Sam extends a hand down to him. “Hey,” he mutters. “You alright? Took me a couple days to find you. That thing that kidnapped you did a pretty good job. But it’s okay, it’s dead now.”

Dean takes his hand, trying to reorient himself. He barely remembers what happened to him. “Uh…” He pats himself down, taking note of his switchblades, daggers, and pocketknives as he looks around. “I think so. I— Sammy, what happened?”

“Couldn’t find you,” Sam shrugs. “Went looking, eventually discovered the big slime tree thing. You were just kinda laying there so I killed it, woke you up. You were really out of it.”

“It’s—” Dean pauses, confused. “It’s _dead_?”

Sam nods, seeming equally perplexed. “Yeah, said that twice.”

“Fucking…” Dean takes a few distraught steps past his brother, running his hands through his hair. Turns on the ball of his foot and walks back, step after tedious step, trying to sort out his memories.

“The little ones,” he finally mutters, and discovers how parched and hoarse his voice is.

“Killed those too,” Sam says before he can even ask. He holds out his hand and shows Dean the sludge in his palm. Dean nods. He might be in shock.

“Thanks,” is all he can think to say.

Sam smiles tightly. “Come on, we’re heading home.”

~~

If Dean notices the slight wriggling in his pocket on the car ride home, well. He pretends not to.

~~

And that night, when he wakes up to the feeling of something squishy sliding deep inside of him, he makes sure to keep himself quiet.

Can’t be waking Sammy, now, can they?

**Author's Note:**

> We hope you liked that!! We like Dean/tentacles 😳😳
> 
> If you did enjoy, make sure you kudos and shoot us a comment, cause those make our day. And if you think we neglected to tag something, let us know in the comments and we'll fix it.
> 
> Much love,  
> -Dean


End file.
